


A story that will not be named

by Notverycreative



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Murder, Violence, idk if itll ever get violent/gory enough to warrant anything higher than a teen rating tho, my first tinsworth fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notverycreative/pseuds/Notverycreative
Summary: In a warehouse in the city that will not be named a crime is currently taking place. That crime is murder. And now a tired detective will attempt to solve who committed said crime. The keyword there is 'attempt'.
Relationships: Ricky Goldsworth/C. C. Tinsley
Kudos: 16





	1. The first of a long series of murders

Our story begins late at night in the bustling heart of a city that will not be named. Why will it not be named?, you ask. Well it’s because I’m too lazy and indecisive to decide which city this takes place in. 

In a warehouse in the city that will not be named a crime is currently taking place. That crime is murder. I won’t go into details because I’d rather not end up on a watchlist for looking up “How long does it take for someone to die after their intestines have been removed”, however I will say that the sight is quite gruesome. Maybe not the most gruesome thing you’ve ever seen but it certainly isn’t pretty. 

After the victim has died the murderer exits the building covered in blood. He walks down the street and past multiple people and gets in his car. Now you might note that it is odd that the murderer was able to walk down the street, covered in blood, without anyone caring. Well this is simply because no one really cares and they just want to get home. That or they’re incredibly drunk. Either way, the murderer is able to get in their car, speed away down the street, go home, watch some unfunny sitcom and act as if they didn’t just brutally murder some poor, defenceless young man.

On the other side of the city that will not be named there is a man sat on his couch watching the same unfunny sitcom as the murderer. This man has absolutely nothing to do with the murderer, yet. 

Now the man on this couch had a very strange appearance which could only be described as a Picasso portrait that instead of looking like some abstract horror, is actually slightly attractive. This combined with uncontrollable limbs which seem to go on forever and an affinity to wear long, tan trench coats and fedoras could give you the impression that this man is a detective from the 50s. However this is not the case. He is actually a detective from 2018, not the 50s. 

His name also seemed like it would fit well in the 50s too. Charles Christopher Tinsley. Some would joke that Tinsley was born to be a detective due to all of the stereotypes. This wasn’t true of course. He was actually born to be an inflatable tube man waving his arms outside of a cars dealership. The reason he had become a detective is because he came to a realisation at quite an early age that his name and fashion sense suited the job and thought ‘why not?’.

Detective C. C. Tinsley had thought that tonight he would have a chance to just sit down, watch some awful shows and not have to worry about anything else. He definitely didn’t want to be called into work at 12:04am because someone went back to work to get their forgotten hat but instead found a dead body in the warehouse. He especially didn’t want to have to work with Benjamin ‘Banjo’ McClintock on this case.

Tinsley preferred working by himself due to the fact that he never seemed to get on with anyone he worked and he could never understand why which is quite surprising since he’s been a detective for 10 years. You would have thought all that experience would have helped Tinsley realise that the reason he didn’t get on with people was because he was a bit of an ass. Because he had never been able to quite figure it out he always blamed the issues on the other person. He was always wrong to blame them of course. Or nearly always wrong. You see McClintock was quite an ass too, just as much as Tinsley was, but the big difference between McClintock and Tinsley was that Tinsley was actually a good detective. 

But, unfortunately, Tinsley didn’t have much say of who he worked with and knew from experience that he would get into trouble if he complained too much about his assigned partner. So after about 10 minutes of shouting at an imaginary Banjo in his head, Tinsley donned his coat and hat and left for what he hoped to be a quick case.

**\-------**

One look at the scene told Tinsley that this would not be a quick case. The fact that there was hardly a drop of blood on the floor despite the victims organs being taken from the body and placed in separate containers implied that the killer knew what they were doing and did not plan on being caught any time soon. They were organised and cleaned up after themselves well enough that Tinsley guessed they wouldn’t have been careless enough to leave fingerprints on anything. 

“So are we going to take a look around or are you just going to stand there?”

_ Oh great, Banjo has finally arrived _ , Tinsley thought even though Banjo had actually arrived 5 minutes ago and had been waiting for Tinsley to do or say something. Instead he’d just been staring straight ahead at the body the whole time. Banjo had assumed, and it is likely you had too due to the previous paragraph, that Tinsley was simply analysing the scene. This was partially correct. In reality for about 10% of the time Tinsley had been thinking about the scene in front of him and the other 90% had been spent thinking about if he’d remembered to make sure his cat had food before he left.

“Hm? Yeah sure,” Tinsley muttered as he started to walk towards the body, “probably won’t find anything though.”

“You don’t know.” Banjo said as he began to walk quickly in order to overtake Tinsley.

“Sure I don’t.” Tinsley said as he peered down at the victims face and found out that he was wrong. He had found something. There was a small trail of what looked like edible gold glitter going down the victims nose. It wasn’t much of course and probably wouldn’t give them any leads which meant that Tinsley could continue in his pessimism and not have to admit that Banjo had been right.

“Could you get a sample of this Iwan?” Tinsley asked.

“Um yep, yep I’ll do that now.”

Tinsley began to walk around the rest of the warehouse for anything else that might help but doubted there would be anything else despite being proved wrong just before this, However this time Tinsley was right and there was nothing else to be found in the area.

After about another 30 minutes of pointless looking around because Banjo insisted that Tinsley had to ‘do his job properly or else’, he was allowed to go home and possibly save his cat from starvation. 

\----------

A few minutes later after Tinsley had gotten home, fed his cat, and changed into some kitten covered pajamas, he got into to bed and slowly drifted off to sleep while he thought about what he could get his cat to make up for the very brief period when she didn’t have any food.

Back on the other side of the city that will not be named the murderer smiled to themselves as they climbed into bed in their satin pajamas and thought about how much fun they were going to have in the next few months.


	2. Chapter 2

It had now been 3 days and, as Tinsley had expected, they had nothing to go on. The sample of the glitter they had taken turned out to have been bought from a large supermarket where hundreds of people had been through in the past week, making it nearly impossible to track down who bought it. But, as Tinsley had also expected, Banjo was convinced they would find the killer very soon despite the fact that they had no leads.

However they wouldn’t be without clues for very long as there was someone climbing in through the window of Tinsley’s apartment. After a couple minutes of scrambling at the side of the building and some not so quiet exclamations in Spanish which would have alerted the homeowner if they had been home, the person was in the apartment. 

This person was one Ricky Goldsworth. Ricky was quite interested on how the case of the murder 3 days ago was going and was curious about this new detective who had been put on the case. This was not, as you may be surprised to discover, because Ricky was the murderer but it was in fact because the murderer was a copycat. A copycat of the Boston Butcher, aka Ricky Goldsworth, to be specific. (It would be a good time to note that the Boston Butcher is only also known as Ricky Goldsworth to Ricky Goldsworth and no one else)

Ricky wasn’t all too happy that his work was being copied by someone else, poorly copied at that. Maybe if they had bothered to do a good job at it he would have let them continue but this new killer wasn’t doing it correctly. He used glitter! Ricky would’ve never left something as pointless as that. Of course he had left a gold item at all murder scenes when he assumed the role of Boston Butcher but he wouldn’t have ever used glitter. What was it supposed to mean anyway? It meant nothing. Ricky would absolutely not settle for being seen as an ordinary run of the mill serial killer. His murders had meaning, unlike this useless copycat who clearly didn’t care about that at all.

And, while it bothered him a lot less than the whole thing with the glitter, there was another thing that irritated him about this copycat picking up after the Boston Butcher. You see Ricky never settled on one way of killing, in one place with only one name for too long. He had been known in many different places and with many different names and everyone believed that these killers were not connected in any way. But there had been multiple ‘different’ serial killers in the past few years that had all been the same man. The Minnesota Shrike, Red Demon, Tooth Fairy (he wasn’t too happy about this one but he only had himself to blame since he would take the teeth of all of his victims and then leave behind the fully cleaned murder weapon), Devil’s Skinner and, most recently, The Boston Butcher. And Ricky had recently retired the Boston Butcher for good. He had ended it by covering the officers that had been attempting to track him done in molten gold, killed a man who had been completely off the grid and made it appear like a suicide and had left it at that. The cops assumed the man who had ‘killed himself’ was the Boston Butcher and then it was done. A very theatrical ending that Ricky was quite proud of so he was quite annoyed that this copycat had now ruined his perfect ending by resurrecting the Butcher. 

Because of all of this Ricky had decided to do some detective work of his own and the first place he could think to look for any help would be the detective’s, which he had recently learned was called C.C. Tinsley, apartment. So he broke in while Tinsley wasn’t home. I mean he couldn’t ask him after all. What would he say? “Hello I’m the actual Boston Butcher, you know the one that murdered 14 people and then ‘died’, and I’m quite angry with this copycat so would like to help you”. Or maybe “I’m a random citizen who has an abnormal interest in this one killer and I want to help you and will not leave you alone until you let me help or you get a restraining order against me”. No, while there was a slight risk involved in it, Ricky would just have to stalk and occasionally break into the apartment of this detective.

Of course if the detective ever caught him doing either of these things he would have to kill him. He couldn’t run the risk of becoming a suspect, especially since he didn’t even commit the crimes. It was the first time in years that Ricky would be able to claim he was not-guilty and for it to actually be the truth. He didn’t want to kill the detective though. No it wasn’t because of some profound connection he felt towards this man he’d never met, it was because he would have to make it look like the copycat killed Tinsley. He would become the copycat of the copycat of his own murders. And considering the copycat of the original murders wasn’t a very good copycat, he did not want to have to be a copycat of the copycats murders because he would have to make the murders look ridiculous and pointless just like the copycat did. He couldn’t even bear the thought. What an embarrassment that would be. No one else would ever find out about it of course, but Ricky would have to live knowing that he did that.

And with the chilling thought that he may have to murder someone in such a humiliating way, he set to work searching through the detective. And he ended up finding nothing important. This was because, as we already know from the start of this chapter, Tinsley and his team were yet to find anything that would help with the case in any way at all. But Ricky had not been aware of this before he decided to spend 30 minutes pointlessly climbing up the side of a way too tall building and now he discovered he had wasted his time and was quite mad about it. 

When Ricky gets mad it is not advised that anyone or anything should be near him. Luckily there wasn’t anyone near him but there were plenty of anythings. Specifically Tinsley’s things, which are unfortunately about to be destroyed. Unfortunately only for Tinsley though, Ricky couldn’t care less about any of the detective’s stuff. So after about 10 minutes Tinsley’s apartment looked like it had been hit by a hurricane and the only thing that seemed to survive the hit was a short, now slightly calmer man who was sitting against the wall. 

During his tantrum Ricky had managed to discover a couple things. For instance, he had found out that the detective had a cat because he had found a store of tens of unused cat toys and beds, which he had promptly destroyed. He had also found out that the detective was a very big fan of coffee and, while Ricky didn’t really care about Tinsley, he became slightly concerned for his health considering that he clearly drank far too much of it. Ricky also destroyed the bags and bags of coffee too however it could be argued that he was actually doing Tinsley a favour as this act would greatly reduce the detective’s coffee consumption for the next 2 weeks. The detective wouldn’t argue that of course and he would be quite pissed when he got home but I would argue, and I’m sure you would too dear reader, that this was a slight positive to come out of the travesty that had just occurred in Tinsley’s home.

Since he had found nothing of importance, Ricky decided it would be best that he just climb back out the window and go home. It might have been wise to have taken the spare key that sat behind a small potted plant near the front door but Ricky’s path of destruction, somehow, had not made contact with this key and it was therefore not discovered by Ricky and by the time he was done wrecking the home he was too tired to bother looking. So he scaled back down and wandered back home to watch the same unfunny sitcom he had watched three nights ago at the same time as the murderer and detective. 

\-----------

This may or may not be a good time to mention that there was another person who had been watching the same sitcom at the same time as the murderer, the detective and Ricky. Now of course there had been many people watching it simultaneously but I will only be focusing on one more of these people as they actually have some relevance to this story. This person did not live in the city that will not be named and in fact lived on the other side of the country. However they would soon receive a phone call from a very old friend, one she had not seen in years, that would result in her travelling hours and hours to the city where the other 3 story-relevant characters who had been watching the sitcom were currently residing in.

\------------

“Banjo no, there’s nothing on the body and you’ve really got to get over it. We’ll just have to wait for the next one.” Tinsley said in an exasperated tone. Banjo had been going back and forth between the morgue and the office for hours now and would not give up on trying to find a lead.

“The next one? Really Tinsley? How the fuck are you respected by anyone? You just want to wait for another person to die, fucking die Tinsley, and then you’ll get up off your ass and maybe find something? You’re a joke.” Banjo said, in a far angrier tone than Tinsley’s. He had been putting so much work into this case already while Tinsley just sat there like the smug ass he is. Every time Banjo would come back into the office he’d raise an eyebrow, give a slight smile, and then go back to whatever work he was doing. It was probably work about a bank robbery where no one died, a stolen car, or just something that wasn’t nearly as important as the case at hand. 

“I’m sorry but what do you want me to do? We have nothing. I’m not just going to waste energy running around like a headless chicken in search of something that isn’t there.” Tinsley was really getting sick of Banjo now. He couldn’t understand why banjo was getting so worked up, it was part of his job to regularly investigate murderers after all, but he did understand that this was still serious. But he knew that there was nothing he could do about it right now.

“Oh yeah? No leads? Well you know that glitter down the victims face? We’ve matched it to possible similar cases that happened over in Boston about a year ago. Boston Butcher. Used to mark victims with some sorta gold stuff after he killed em. This could be him.”

“Didn’t he die?” Tinsley didn’t need to ask this. He had seen the news, he knew the Butcher was dead and hadn’t cared much about the case since. A killer who kills themself afterwards is just boring.

“They think it’s possible he lived, the body they thought was him could’ve been faked. Cuts were good but the angle was a bit off they were.”

“I don’t know about that Banjo, pretty sure that was him. Copycat maybe?” Tinsley was just as disinterested with this as he was with the Butcher himself. The only thing more boring than a killer who kills themself is a copycat.

“I don’t fucking know. Maybe if you bothered to do any work ever we’d be able to find out.”

“Listen, we might be able to track a possible pattern if they're a copycat but that’s it. There’s nothing else to go off.”

“Fine fine fine. You’re doin it though. I’ve been working my ass off all day so you can do some of the work now.” Banjo said in a slightly calmer tone then when he first started talking. At least Tinsley would be doing some sort of work now. “And after just go home unless you got other shit to work on I guess.”

“Alright, could you get me a coffee?”

“I’ve been running around all day when it shoulda been you, get your own fucking coffee.” And with that Banjo left Tinsley to work on the new case they had and Tinsley wondered if Iwan would get as mad as Banjo had if he shouted at her to grab him a coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya know I told myself that I'd get a new chapter out weekly when I started but I guess that's out the window now. Rip me. I'm going to try update it bit more regularly from now on

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is @demonboihere


End file.
